


Illud

by orphan_account



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Explicit Language, Fluff, Gen, Implied/Referenced Sexual Harassment, Love Spell, M/M, Magical Accidents, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-12
Updated: 2016-02-12
Packaged: 2018-05-19 22:15:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5982553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anders accidentally magicks himself into the most irresistible feathered apostate in all of Thedas. Fenris is not impressed. Or is he?</p><p>Found this a few days ago, barely remember writing it, thought I'd deleted it, so I finished it and here it is.<br/>I think it might have been based on a kmeme prompt, but I can't find the prompt anymore, and it's not where I usually save the ones I'll never fill? So, if anyone happens to remember a love spell prompt probably in the depths of a thread from 1897 or so, let me know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Illud

**Author's Note:**

> this is pointless and was either going here or in the bin so it's here this is my bin now
> 
> Translation:
> 
> And the mage cried and begged, but the door remained as unyielding as his darling's heart. When a slave walked by in the middle of the night, he used their blood... (gruesome bit that Anders skips)... But the door did not budge (or alternatively his darling). In the end, the mage invoked That Phrase. He sat down like a magister. As the mana flowed from him, he raised his hands and chanted That Phrase: I offer my life to love (not 'I give love head' shhh dragon no)
> 
> (Three word bit near the end: And love accepts)

"For me?" Anders asked delightedly as he thumbed through the heavy tome. Hawke shrugged. "I found it. It's not... blood magic, is it?"

Anders frowned. "From what I can tell, no. It seems to be some kind of collection of fairy tales. It should be entertaining at the very least."

"Excellent." Hawke beamed. "Don't think this means you get to skip card night tomorrow, though. You don't get out enough as it is; I'm not having you use Tevinter fairy stories as another excuse." Hawke stood from the cot he'd been sitting on and fixed Anders with a very stern look. "Promise!"

Anders rolled his eyes. "I promise. See you tomorrow."

Hawke nodded, apparently satisfied, and bid Anders goodnight before leaving the clinic. Anders doused the lantern and locked the doors before curling up in bed with an apple and the book.

Three hours, a lengthy argument with Justice about wasting time, a cup of tea, and two dozen changes of reading position later saw him sitting cross-legged with the book in his lap, struggling to keep his eyes open. It had been slow going in the beginning because he had needed to look up quite a lot of words, but once he had figured out most of the core vocabulary, the reading had become more enjoyable. The stories were short and simple - the triumph of eternal love and magic. All very Tevinter, but more cheesy.

"... Et flebat magus et supplicabat. Ostium autem tam durum quam cor deliciarum... Maker, she doesn't want you; just leave the poor girl alone..." He turned the page. "Media nocte servo praeteriente sanguinem... Oh, ew, I'll skip that bit... Sed non cessit... I knew it, blood magic won't get you love. I wonder if thrall-resistant doors are standard in Tevinter? Denique magus auxilio Illud arcessivit. Assedit quam magister... Do magisters sit in a particular way? I'll have to ask Fenris. He'll be delighted... Mana emanante - Maker, that makes for a nice figure of speech - manus sustulit," Anders raised his voice and arms dramatically, "et Illud evocavit." He squinted at the page where someone had crossed out the following words and tried to decipher them. "Caput Amori Offero. Yes, I'm sure that did it... Huh, it did. Amazing. And they're kissing. How... questionably romantic." He yawned and shut the book, depositing it by his bedside. "That was enough romance and vicariously living through fictional magelings for one day. Night, Justice."

 

* * *

 

When he opened the doors and lit the lantern the next morning after entirely too little sleep, a patient was already waiting outside, clutching a swollen left arm.

Anders smiled. "Good morning, or as good as it can be with that wrist. Let's take a look right away, shall we?" The woman's eyes widened, and she blushed before nodding eagerly and following Anders inside. The healer directed her to a cot and gently pried the hand off the wrist in order to examine it.

The woman cleared her throat. "You have very nice hands."

Anders' gaze snapped up, and he stared at his patient's flushed face. "Ah... thank you? I... moisturise. It's necessary when you wash your hands as often as I do, which I obviously have to, given my profession, but, well, the skin tends to get dry, so..." His eyes flicked down again to where the patient was now covering the hand prodding his wrist with her own, her thumb gently stroking the back. "Um..." He slowly extricated his hand and took a step back. "It's only a sprain; I can fix that in a second. Just hold still for a moment, please."

"Of course, healer."

 

* * *

 

By the time the evening arrived, Anders was grateful that it had been a slow day. Every single one of the handful of patients who had walked in had tried to come on to him in some more or less disturbing way, and he had no idea what was happening. He locked up and made his way to the Hanged Man, nervously looking over his shoulder. He shuffled into the tavern and was about to reach the stairs when Isabela called to him from the bar.

"Hold up, Sparklefingers! Varric isn't here yet; Hawke dragged him, Fenris, and Kitten to the Bone Pit earlier today."

Anders sighed and joined her at the bar. "Hunting dragons without a healer? I hope they'll get back in one piece."

"Oh, I'm sure they will. The question is just... how will we pass the time until then...?" Isabela purred. Anders narrowed his eyes. Was she flirting or was she  _flirting_? He honestly couldn't tell.

“We could just stand here,” he suggested carefully.

“No fun, Sparkles.” She pouted and dragged him down with a hand on his shoulder to whisper, “How about we do something else? I could never quite forget how your-”

“OR,” he interrupted, quickly pulling away and walking backwards, “I could just stand somewhere else. All by myself. You know, I’m pretty sure I’ve forgotten... something important. Yes. I’ll go and see you… later.”

His eyes widened when two more people in his path perked up and approached him with blinding smiles, and he turned tail and ran.

 

* * *

 

Anders stared blankly at his locked, bolted, and barred door when someone knocked. If his bed had been suitable for it, he would have hidden underneath; but as it was, he simply sat on top of it, quiet as a mouse.

The knocking grew more insistent, and Anders’ frown intensified.

“Anders! Magic hands, please? NOW?” At the urgency in Hawke’s voice, Anders jumped to his feet and hurried to open the door. His jaw dropped when Hawke and Merrill carried a half-dead looking Fenris inside and put him down on one of the cots.

“Maker’s balls, did you try to _feed_ him to the dragon? I like him as little as the next person, but that’s a bit much, don’t you think?”

“I guess we just hadn’t expected dragon fire to be this hot. Almost as hot as you, come to think of it… Perhaps when you’ve patched him up, I could-”

“Out! Out, out, out, the healer needs peace and quiet to focus,” Anders said hastily, pushing Hawke towards the door. To his surprise, Merrill helped.

“Of course we will go, I’m so sorry. You do such good work, ma vhenan, we shouldn’t interfere.” She gave Hawke a mighty shove through the door, causing Anders to stumble forward. He half caught himself with a hand on the doorpost, and before he could pick himself up, Merrill had used his temporarily diminished height to smooch his cheek and skipped outside to drag Hawke away.

While he locked the door once more and turned to the unconscious elf, Anders thought he could practically feel his nerves disintegrating. He only hoped Fenris wouldn’t wake up for a good long while because as delightful as he (and, disturbingly enough, Justice) found the prospect of being jumped by the lyrium warrior, he had a feeling it would drastically shorten his already meagre life expectancy since something suspiciously magicky seemed to be going on here.

With a sigh, he took off Fenris’ armour and tunic, rolled up his sleeves and got to work. Thankfully Fenris wasn’t quite as dead as it had seemed at first glance; at least it was all fixable, especially since Fenris wasn’t awake to complain.

“Shut up, Justice. I know he would want it done the non-magical way if he could ask. And then? Then he’d be out of commission for weeks, moaning about having to lie around uselessly and having to see me regularly for check-ups, secretly terrified that Danarius might turn up while he’s injured… Let me just fix it now and later pretend nothing happened, just like he will do. You know he will.”

 

* * *

 

By the time Fenris’ eyes opened, Anders had healed a head wound, several broken bones and slightly dented organs, a few severe burns, had downed two lyrium potions, and was just putting the finishing touches on the bits of skin that were only lightly roasted.

“Morning, Fenris. Had a good sleep?” Anders asked nervously, steeling himself for a possibly terrifying attempt at flirting from Fenris.

“Mage,” was the snarled answer, along with his patient trying to stand up.

Anders blinked. That was… quite normal. He cleared his throat.

“You really shouldn’t get up yet. You were like a loaf of freshly baked bread filled with squashed tomatoes when they brought you in.”

“I feel fine. Your concern is neither needed nor wanted.” Once again he struggled to stand, and Anders pushed him back onto the cot.

“And you undoing all my work by keeling over and falling down the stairs outside isn’t needed or wanted either. Stay.” Anders crossed his arms as Fenris seemed to ready himself to argue, lips pulled back from sharp teeth in his best rabid dog impression, when another knock interrupted them. Anders hesitated. Fenris was behaving like he always did, so maybe whatever Anders Magnetism had been happening had worn off? He decided to chance it and opened the door, only to have a young man bleeding from a wound in his side fall into his arms.

“Oh! Oh Maker, come, lie down here…” He guided him to the nearest cot and set to cleaning the wound. “Let me guess, you fell onto a knife? While… cooking?” His patient grinned, showing blood-stained teeth.

“Yeah,” he rasped. “And not nearly as pleasant as falling into your arms it was. You work out, healer?”

Anders’ hands stilled, and he looked up slowly. His eyes darted over to Fenris, whose eyebrows were climbing up to his hairline.

“Uh… I…” Anders trailed off with an unintelligible mumble, silently thanking his lucky stars that the wound was clean and ready for healing. Once he was done, he wasted no time in pulling the man to his feet and shoving him towards the door.

“I could stay for a bit longer? Have you show me some nicer ways of being impaled or-”

Anders shut and locked the door and leaned his back against it. His gaze fell on Fenris who was sitting on the edge of his cot and still looking rather perplexed.

“Please tell me this is not your ‘I just belatedly realised that the abomination is hot as fuck’ face.”

Fenris scowled.

“In your dreams, mage.”

“Not even there; don’t you worry,” Anders lied effortlessly. “Glad you’re normal, though. I don’t want to know what kind of terrible innuendo about, I don’t know, sucking the demons out of me or whatever you’d come up with. Although you’d have to try hard to give me the worst I’ve heard today.”

“Just _what_ have you done?”

“What have  _I_ …? Nothing! I didn’t do anything! I just woke up, opened the clinic, and since then I’ve been facing an endless barrage of the _worst_ come-ons you could possibly imagine! A positively ancient lady _accidentally_ stumbled and put my hand on her boob when she caught herself on my arm and winked at me! Some guy with a rash on his dick said he might as well show me a good time while it was out! People who are bleeding out are coughing up blood because they desperately need tell me how pretty I am! I’m just glad no one _died_ because I’d hate to tell anyone that Nana’s last words were that she wants to choke on my fat cock!”

Anders stopped his rant and glared at Fenris, breathing heavily. Fenris’ eyes were wide as saucers, and his ears bright red and downturned like a scolded puppy’s. The sight made Anders feel bad about his outburst; he sighed and slumped down on the cot next to Fenris.

“Sorry. I’m just… I may be a bit strung up at the moment.”

“A bit,” Fenris agreed with a slight twitch of his lips.

With narrowed eyes, Anders asked, “So how come you’re not telling me I'm the cutest mage?” The ears, which had perked up once Anders had calmed down, promptly drooped again, and Fenris shrugged awkwardly.

“I am unsure. Perhaps… it is the lyrium?”

“Right,” Anders said slowly, not bothering to hide how unconvinced he was. “Well, no matter. What matters is that I demand payment for healing you.”

Fenris frowned.

“You never demand payment.”

“I do now. I hereby demand that you help me find out and fix what’s wrong with either me or everyone else.”

“Absolutely not. You sort out your own mess, mage,” Fenris snapped.

“How exactly do you suggest I do that? Do you want me to go ask Xenon if he’s got any ideas and maybe slip him some nice, rejuvenating mage dick while I’m there because he will no doubt ask? Or hey, why don’t I go to Marethari for advice? I’m sure the clan will _love_ some shemlen becoming their step-keeper and won’t take it badly at all once everyone’s back to normal! Or perhaps I should-”

“ _Fine_ , I will help.”

“Oh Fenris, thank you so much for offering!” Anders grinned at the scowling elf. “Now what do we do?”

“You will-”

Anders wondered how long it would take after this ordeal was over for him not to feel visceral terror every time someone knocked on his clinic door. He put a finger to his lips and grabbed Fenris’ wrist, dragging him along as he tiptoed to his makeshift bedroom.

“Maker, I really hope they won’t break down my door,” he whispered when the knocking continued, and turned around to see Fenris rooted to the spot with his eyes fixed on the fairy tale book.

“Is that…”

Anders rolled his eyes.

“Yes, it’s Tevinter, bite my head off why don’t you. It’s just fairy stories.”

“ _Just_... Venhedis, mage, how have you not learned by now to treat anything from Tevinter with caution?”

“I’ve certainly learned to treat _you_ with caution,  _elf_ , that’s got to count for something.”

Fenris clenched his teeth and looked away. Anders crossed his arms defensively and steeled himself for more elf rage when he met his gaze again, but Fenris merely said, “Just tell me what you read,” sounding more tired than Anders had ever heard.

“Uh, well,” he began hesitantly. “I only read a few stories last night. It can’t really be that, can it? I mean, they’re just…” Fenris’ exasperated glare told him that he would get a long, angry reminder that there was nothing ‘just’ about Tevinter in any sense of the word if he mentioned it one more time.

“Sorry. Right. The first story was about an apprentice who was turned into a fox, and his true love had to find him in an enchanted forest and turn him back; but since no one got turned into a fox here… Then the, uh… the southern mage who asked a demon to free him from the Circle, so the demon, uh…” he trailed off, not missing the flash of fury in Fenris’ eyes.

“The next one wasn’t so… or, well, it was a bit… let’s not…”

“Oh no, let’s,” Fenris growled, causing Anders to fidget uncomfortably. The stories lost a lot of their charm when you had to discuss their content with a mage-hating former Tevinter slave, who’d have thought.

“I only liked it because it had a cat,” he muttered. “And the slave was happier as a cat than as an elf, too.”

Fenris snorted.

“Well… anyway, the last one was something about a girl who spurned all the mageling’s advances, so he camped in front of her door.”

Fenris’ eyes widened, and his ears twitched nervously.

“Did he say something? To make her love him? Did he say… That?” he asked urgently.

“What?”

“ _That._ Illud.”

Anders frowned. “I think he said ‘Cap-’” He was cut off by Fenris’ hand firmly covering his mouth.

“Don’t say it. Why do you think people just call it 'That'? You never say it out loud.”

Anders scowled and pulled Fenris’ hand off his face.

“Why? I already said it last night.”

“I have half a mind to beat some sense into you with the blighted book, mage. What do you think got you into this mess?”

“But they’re just normal words! I didn’t do any magic!” Anders protested.

“You _are_ magic,” Fenris spat. “The words are normal by themselves, yes, but not together, not for mages.” Anders shook his head stubbornly.

“How is that even possible? And why would it have such a colossally inconvenient effect?”

“You would grab a sword by its blade and complain about it being sharp, wouldn’t you? You didn't do it right.” He held up a hand when Anders opened his mouth. “Please curb your reflex to attack me for saying you did something wrong for once.”

Anders shut his mouth with a huff and glared at Fenris. Suddenly Fenris turned away and headed further into the room.

“I remember you mentioning another exit before. If you want it reversed, I'll need to find out how; and I doubt your admirers would let me leave unscathed.” He gestured to the front door. Anders had barely noticed the continuous pounding anymore, but now that Fenris wanted to leave, it suddenly seemed very threatening.

While Fenris put on his singed tunic, he pulled a grate from a hole in the floor.

“Right here. For the grate escape, get it?” He chuckled nervously. “Well… Good luck. And... I won’t resent you for hurrying up, you know.”

Fenris squeezed through the hole with a curt nod at Anders and disappeared.

After brief hesitation and listening to the hammering on his door, Anders slipped down into the secret tunnel as well and pulled the grate back over the hole. A few feet in, he huddled into a small niche and promptly fell asleep.

 

* * *

 

A hand on his shoulder shook him gently, and he jerked awake, staring right into Fenris’ eyes. It wasn’t the worst sight to wake up to, especially when Fenris’ face was more concerned-frowny than the usual hostile-frowny.

“Are you well?”

“Yes, I just felt a bit safer down here. I should sleep here more often.”

Fenris thrust a scroll and a small vial containing a pale green fluid at him.

“Drink this, and then read the words.”

Anders eyed the vial suspiciously.

“What is that? Where did you get it?”

“Xenon. And I decided not to ask. He was rather annoyed because he had been feeling a particular pull towards a certain someone since last night.” Fenris smirked when Anders shuddered.

He hastily uncorked the vial and swallowed the contents, then unrolled the scroll and read the spidery handwriting out loud.

“Et Amor Accipit.” He closed his eyes and waited for something, anything, to happen, but then again he hadn’t felt the blighted magic take hold either. He peered up at Fenris.

“I suppose there’s no point in asking you if you feel any different?”

In the dim light of the tunnel, he could have sworn there was a sad little smile on Fenris’ face for a moment.

“No.”

“Alright, well, I guess I’ll see if the clinic’s overrun or not.”

They walked back to Anders’ home together in silence. The place was deserted now, but someone seemed to have taken an axe to one of the doors. Anders surveyed the damage while Fenris collected his sword and armour.

“So… Yesterday’s card night was cancelled on account of dragons, but I doubt Hawke will let us off the hook again, so I guess I’ll see you later? And, um, thank you. For helping,” Anders said awkwardly when Fenris prepared to leave.

“You’re welcome, mage. And get rid of the book.”

Anders blushed.

“Promise.”

 

* * *

 

“Oh Maker, Anders, you _so_ missed your chance to hang out at the Gallows,” Hawke gasped, tears streaming down his face. “Just imagine Meredith and Cullen declaring their undying love for you.”

Anders rolled his eyes but grinned. He was relieved that none of his friends were angry about the whole affair. Hawke and Isabela thought it was hilarious; Merrill alternated between giggling and apologising for making him uncomfortable; he was fairly certain he had seen Varric scribble something about knight commanders falling for irresistible apostates; and even Aveline wasn’t quite able to hide the grin behind her outwardly disapproving expression when Hawke and Isabela began spinning ridiculous tales.

Only Fenris was conspicuously absent; and when Varric dealt the cards, Anders asked, ”Shouldn’t we wait?”

“I’m pretty sure Fenris is holed up in his cellar trying to wash away any lingering traces of mage love with copious amounts of wine. Let him wallow in peace for a bit, hm?” Isabela said with a chuckle.

“But he wasn’t affected,” Anders objected. “If anything, you lot should be washing. Unless that’s what you’re doing right now.” He looked doubtfully at everyone’s ale. The pirate laughed and snaked an arm around his shoulders to draw him closer.

“You don’t really believe that, do you? Let me tell you something about Fenris, sweet thing. He is possibly the most stubborn person in all of Thedas. There could be half a dozen spells on him insisting that he act like a fool; he would shake his pretty head and keep going about his broody business like nothing's wrong. If he doesn’t want you to know, you won’t know.”

Anders frowned and hummed non-committally. He played a few rounds, but his heart was not quite in it, and he was losing quite spectacularly. Isabela’s words and that barely-there wistful smile in the tunnel wouldn’t leave his mind, and he eventually excused himself.

 

* * *

 

Anders quietly opened the door to the mansion and stepped inside. The spacious, empty entrance hall never failed to creep him out, and it was even worse now that it was dark and he was all alone.

“Fenris?” he called, but received no answer. He crept up the stairs and pushed the door to Fenris’ room open, only to find it as cold and dark as the rest of the house. He sighed. To the wine cellar then, wherever that was. Back downstairs, he turned to the corridor on the right and in the end found narrow wooden steps leading further down into a space that seemed to be lit by flickering candlelight.

“Fenris, are you there? I’m coming down.”

When his announcement went unanswered again, he went down the steps.

It was a narrow space with shelves lining the walls, filled with countless bottles. In one corner stood a solitary candle; in the opposite corner sat Fenris, hugging his legs tight against his body with his chin resting on one knee. He stared silently up at Anders, who sat down on the last step, mirroring the elf’s position and returning the stare for a long while.

“Still not feeling any different?” Anders finally asked. The same sad smile as before appeared on Fenris’ face.

“No.”

“Isabela said you’d be here, trying to wash it away.”

“I have long since stopped trying.”

“How long?”

“I never noticed. Until it was too late.”

Anders imagined Fenris’ raging fury at the sudden realisation that he felt… what? Lust? Affection? For a _mage_ of all people. The image hurt.

“When you said the words to break the spell, for some reason I was sure it would finally end. But it didn’t, and I was… relieved.”

Anders’ heart gave an odd little lurch.

“I hope realising you like liking me was less upsetting than realising you like me,” he joked weakly.

“Marginally,” Fenris replied drily. He watched Anders closely and then concluded, “You do not feel the same.”

“That's not... I’d be lying if I said I’ve never considered it; I do have eyes, and I like how… how you are with the others. But I'm not sure what you’re really like with _me_ because a lot of what I know is someone acting like a hateful bastard. No offence,” he added quickly when he saw Fenris wince at his words. The elf shrugged and looked away.

Again Anders was reminded of Isabela’s words. Perhaps Fenris had wasted enough of his ridiculous stubborn strength, and it was time for someone to meet him halfway. He cleared his throat.

“If you could give me a chance, I’d like to change that and get to know you,” he said honestly and suppressed a laugh when Fenris’ head whipped back towards him, ears pricked and eyes bright.

“I would like that," he rumbled and got to his feet gracefully, then stilled, looking a bit lost.

Anders stood up as well and suggested, "Maybe not tonight. Some sleep would not go amiss right now."

"Oh." Fenris hesitated. "If you would rather not walk back to Darktown this late, you are welcome to stay here."

"Is your bed big enough?" Anders asked with a grin and waggled his eyebrows. A slow smile spread across Fenris' face.

"It might be a tight fit. I could offer you a few other beds, but they are all quite dusty."

"Ah, no, that won't work; I'm very sensitive to dust. We'll try yours, and if cuddling can't be avoided, well..."

"Always sacrificing yourself," Fenris murmured with a fond smile and led the way upstairs.


End file.
